Peeling It All Away
by katy1030
Summary: Pepper's pregnant. And as if that wasn't enough Tony's past has come back to haunt him in the form of Luis Enriquez, his fifteen year old smart-mouthed and street smart son who can't go home.
1. And So it Begins

**Avengers Fanfic! Damn I haven't updated any of my storied in a while so I shouldn't be starting a new one, but oh well, irresponsible like that. Anyway, this is a take on what would happen if one of Tony's earlier trysts came back to haunt him in the form of his street smart, smart mouthed son. Well, I guess we'll have to see, huh? If you read anything of my previous fic this is a darker one guys, watch out. **

**Rated T for domestic abuse and language. **

**I do not own The Avengers. I do not own any characters from Marvel. I only own my own OC's. **

_*16 years earlier* _

Tony Stark was bored. And when Tony Stark was bored bad things happened. Well, not necessarily, but things did tend to get scandalous. And, when things got scandalous he got and trouble, and through that his Company got in trouble. He sat, clean shaven and dressed in Armani, listening to what had the possibility to be the most boring speech of all eternity.

It wasn't that he hated charity events, he was a philanthropist, but they were so ridiculously dull he felt like gouging his own eyes out with the too expensive forks. He let his attention wander. He wondered if he could get any more booze, because his cup was running a little too low for his liking. He wondered when this idiot's speech was going to be over, and he also wondered what the waitress with the pretty eyes' name was.

She passed him as Obadiah waved her down with a simple flick of his wrist. She was short, shorter than he usually liked in a woman, but the rest of her made up for it. Dark chocolate colored eyes, wavy dark hair that cascaded down her shoulders. Her skin was dark and her smile bright. He smiled to himself, just as the speech from the plain, dull man. He smiled and clapped a little too loudly, nodding to the people at his table.

His eyes wandered back to where she was standing, or where she _was_ standing. His eyes darted around as the orchestra began playing once again. Couples, mostly older, littered the dance floor. Men grouped together in corners, lighting cigars, and talking amongst themselves. Their wives draped in Jewels and Gucci, gossiped in the corners about the latest drama.

Tony was left, by himself, wandering back to the bar, for another scotch. Obadiah talked to a possible business partner, and for a moment Tony wished that Rhodes was there. At least Tony enjoyed his company, even if sometimes he couldn't take a joke. He didn't like gossip, politics, or talk of business on the weekends. Therefore, he fit in nowhere.

He waltzed over to the bar, only to come face to face with the waitress he was watching from earlier. She smiled, a charming smile, and Tony could do nothing but give her one of his own smiles, the one he reserved solely for women who sparked his ever wandering interest.

"Can I get you anything Mr. Stark?" She asked, voice tinged with a Hispanic accent. She was young, younger than him. Early twenties, but legal, and as long as they were legal, Tony felt no weighted conscience.

"Please," He straightened the lapels of his jacket. "Call me Tony."

She ducked her head, a blush tinting her cheeks. "My name is Valentina." She told him, even though he would be fine if he woke up in the morning not knowing. He probably wouldn't remember it anyway. "Can I get you anything, Tony?"

He could only grin. Maybe this night wouldn't turn out so bad after all.

* * *

_*Present time*_

Okay, Okay I can. It was a stupid, stupid, stupid idea. It isn't my fault; I just wanted to know who my biological father was, is that too much to ask? Apparently, yes, it is, because now I'm getting screamed at by my step-dad, my two twin half-sisters have ran away into our room, and my mom is watching with a low gaze and a guilty expression.

I just watch the man in front of me with a bored indifferent look as he lectures me about how ungrateful I am, and that I'm lucky to have him as a step-father. Bullshit, I'd be luckier if he was six feet under and I lived on the street. Okay, maybe, I am a little ungrateful, but why should I be?

Manny married my mom when I was four after he knocked her up. Boy, does she know how to pick 'em, huh? He's a mechanic, who works during the day and drinks during the night, and sometimes, if the day is particularly bad goes back to the old, its 5 o'clock somewhere rule and drinks all day. If I'm lucky he forgets we all exist and drinks himself into a stupor, or goes out for the night.

If I'm not lucky than he decided to get a little loud, a little mean, and more violent than necessary. Like now.

"You want to leave? Is that it, boy? You want to be grown? No what fine, than get the fuck out of my house and go be grown!" Manny wasn't even on topic anymore, he was just ranting now, taking all his anger out on me. It's better than taking all his anger out on anyone else.

"Hey! Pay attention! You better show some respect, Luis! _Usted poco desperdicio de espacio_!"

_Crack. _

White light blinds me for a second, but as soon as I regain my sight, and composure I stand quickly, knocking down the wooden stool I was sitting on. My cheek stings painfully, and I'm almost one-hundred percent sure I have a cut from where his brass ring scraped my cheek.

"Manny, _¡Alto!_" My mother exclaims, quickly rushing over to me. She reaches for my cheek, but I simply turn away. It's the first time she's ever done anything after I'd been hit, I'm not really sure why she does it, but I wish she didn't.

"Hey, you get over here, Valentina!" He fists a hand in her hair from over the counter and yanks her toward him with a jerk, causing her to slam into the counter, she cries out, and I immediately turn to them. "Your kid is a little fucker, and I'm sick of fucking taking care of something that's not mine, you hear me?" She nods, tears prickling in her eyes, and that's when I snap.

"Let go of her!" I can't help but yell as I run behind the counter and slug Manny right across the face. His hand goes limp, and he slams into the fridge behind him, to shocked to do anything else. He stares, before his face converts into one of rage. His fist flies out and collides with my jaw, sending me hard into the wall, and I can hear my mom's scream.

I scramble to get to my feet, collapsing, for a moment because the pain is so staggering I can barely think straight, and the ring just made the hit twelve times worse. A kick to the side follows, sending me back into the wall again. Another kick to the ribs and I'm pretty sure they're bruised. Great.

More screaming, but I don't open up my eyes; instead, I opt to keep them closed for a couple of minutes. I can hear my mom pleading, but I don't know what she's saying. Everything is muffled, and everything hurts. It really, really hurts.

"When I come back, that free loader better be gone!" A door slams.

Arms wrap around me soon after, "Come on, _hijo_. Let's get up now." I groan as I stumble to my feet, using the wall as support, or yea, my ribs are either broken or bruised. And I know we can't afford to go to the emergency room, so woohoo. Hello, pain and a handful of aspirin.

I lean on her, even though I'm a head taller as she takes me out onto the fire escape after a lot of struggling to get through the window, and a lot more pain. She leaves, to presumably go get a first aid kit and some bandages, leaving me sitting with alone, in the humid air outside, cradling my side.

The noises of Spanish Harlem are obnoxious to most people, but to me, someone who's lived here their whole life, I think they're calming. Today was the first day I've ever stood up to Manny. I didn't do a good job, judging by my state, and the fact mom has a bruise forming on her face, but still. It's got to count for something.

She returns with peroxide and a wide roll of gauze and duct tape. I snort, "Highest quality here." I mutter bitterly, shaking my head.

She ignores me, and sits next to me, putting some peroxide on a rag she tucked into her pocket. She begins to clean the cut on my face, and I wince as it comes in contact with the open wound. A hiss escapes my clenched teeth, and she looks sympathetic.

"I don't know why you stay with him," I say, finally breaking the silence as she continues.

There's a pause, and then, in a soft voice she answers, "Where else would we go?"

"Somewhere better. Manhattan, maybe. Brooklyn, even,"

"Where we gonna get the money to go to either? And to get an apartment? _Aye, hijo._"

"I can't mom," I gently swat her hand away, and shake my head, "I can't stay here another minute with him. I can't do it. I can't watch him use you as a punching bag anymore."

"I'm not the one he hits the most," She looks down so that her hair hides her face.

"Only because if he didn't hit me he would hit Marta or Lupe." I point out, picking up the gauze and lifting up my shirt to reveal a nasty bruise on the right side of my body.

"Can you…?" I gesture with my chin to the gauze.

She nods, hands moving quickly. "Do you really want to know who your father is?"

"No, I just wanted my ribs to get broken so I pissed Manny off on purpose." I snap sarcastically like any angst ridden teenager.

"Watch your mouth," She snaps right back as she wraps my ribs, causing me to wince and squirm.

"Sorry." I grit out, my eyes downcast.

"Tony Stark." The name comes out of her mouth stressed and slightly angry. Like it leaves a bad taste in her mouth.

"What? What are you talking about, where did he come from?" I ask, confused as she wraps the gauze a little tighter than it should be, I wince once again.

"He's your father."

I laugh, well, as close to laugh as I can get to, seeing as every laugh causes more pain. "That's funny."

"I'm not kidding." The tone in her voice makes me look at her, eyes sad as she tosses the empty gauze roll over the rail and rips off a piece of duct tape with her teeth to tape the gauze in place.

"I don't understand."

"He's your dad."

"How?"

"You know how."

"Stop. How did you even meet?" I'm not able to process this. My head is swimming and all I can think of is Tony Stark.

Tony Fucking Stark.

Iron Man.

Billionaire.

_God damn Iron man. _

"At a party for Stark Industries. It was a charity event; I was waitressing, and then he started talking to me, and I was young and stupid, and all I cared about was attention and guys, and he was _the _guy. Even before he was Iron Man."

"I- I just- Does he know?" The words escape me jumbled as she finally manages to keep the gauze tight, and drops the duct tape.

"No. After I found out they were already gone. Back to California, and I figured he wouldn't want a kid anyway."

I sit, in stunned silence, staring out at the city, I've longed for so much. I can see Stark Tower from here, barely, but it's there. Glowing like a beacon in a sea of sadness and pain.

"This must be a lot to take in. I've never told you because I know how dangerous it is to be related to that man. He fights people we know nothing about on a daily basis. I never told you for your own good." She sounds tired as she follows my gaze to the skyline.

"You know what I have to do now."

She nods, "Leave. I know. If Manny comes back I'm scared he's going to do worse, _hijo._"

"But you know where I need to go, right?" There's only one option.

Her voice is quiet, almost drowned out by the noise of the city, "Yes, I do, but I'm scared of what you're going to find when you get there. You know, his girlfriend is pregnant. It's been all over the news."

It's true, Pepper Potts is pregnant, and with Mr. Stark's, or should I say _Daddy's _baby. In the interviews and press conferences they've had with the Avengers he's talked about how excited he is to be a father. Well, great, because he already is one, and he doesn't have to even raise me. He just has to know I exist.

"And you know. You can't just walk on in and say you're his son, you're gonna have to take a paternity test." She adds after a moment.

I nod, only half listening. Luis Stark. It sounds strange. It doesn't sound like the name of Luis Enriquez who's grown up in Spanish Harlem, speaks with a bit of an accent, and hobbies include tagging the neighborhood with pictures of anything and everything.

It sounds like the name of someone important. Someone who has authority. Someone who goes to charity events with his father, and laughs at jokes of business men. Someone who drinks champagne out of a crystal flute, and looks down on people like me.

I hang my head, and lean against the wall. The sun is just beginning to set, and I know that I have an hour until the next bus. I can't be here when Manny get's home. That would just end badly. Worse than now, like my mom said.

I struggle to stand, and mom quickly jumps up to help me. "Better go pack, huh, Luis?" She tries to sound playful, but fails.

"_Sí_," I agree as I practically fall through the window, groaning as I do. I don't turn to see her concerned face; instead, I turn to the hall, and go to get a bag ready. As I open the door I see a lump in the middle of the twin sized bed my sister's share.

"Hey, guys." I greet as casually as possible as two dark haired heads peak out from under the blanket. "I got to go for a little bit."

"Are you okay?"

"We heard fighting."

"Why are you limping?"

"I'm fine, _niñas_." I assure them as they crawl off the bed. They aren't even fazed by the fighting anymore, it happens that often. "Manny doesn't want me around anymore."

"Did you make _papá_ angry again?" Lupe asks, voice quavering only slightly. The only good thing that ever came out of my mom and Manny's relationship are the twins. I can only thank God they don't take after their father.

"Yea, but don't worry, I'm gonna be back soon."

"When?" Marta asks.

"Hopefully in a couple days. Until then you guys stay out of Manny's way, okay? Don't make him angry, and for the love of all things holy, _behave_." A trait that seems to run in the family is pranks, humor, and bad judgment. Well, I'm not really sure what runs in my family anymore.

It all feels like a dream, I don't feel like my dad is Tony Stark. I feel numb. Well, that's a lie, I actually feel like I got hit by a truck. Or a really heavy boot. I toss random clothing items into a duffle bag along with a picture frame of my mom and the twins. I add forty dollars, money I've saved. I glance in the mirror before I go.

My dark brown hair is mussed, sticking out every way possibly, and my tan skin is marred by the cut that is starting to scab. I look beat up and my dark brown eyes are wide against my face. I tug at the cross around my neck, a habit I've had ever since I can remember.

I suddenly feel arms wrap around each of my legs.

"Don't go, Lue."

"Yea, where you gonna go? You're only fifteen." Marta asks skeptically.

"Imma go on an adventure." I say simply, better that than I'm going off to meet my billionaire dad, later guys!

"Do you have to?" Lupe asks, letting go to stand up.

"Yea," I say softly ruffling both of their hair. They squeal in mock annoyance. "I do."

I hug them both, muttering good bye's and I love you's. I have to leave soon, before the sun sets completely, at least. I'd like to make it to Stark Tower before midnight.

"By, ma. _Te amo." _ I say, hugging my mom in the noisy, smoky hallway.

"_Te quiero, nena." _She leans back to look at me. "Good luck. If you can't see him, or if… If it doesn't work out…Call me. We'll figure something out. I'll talk to Manny."

"Okay." I nod, before plastering a grin onto my face. "It's gonna be fun. Never been to the big city before. Lucky me."

* * *

I'm screwed. Absolutely and positively screwed. I know my way around my neighborhood. I can tell you street names, where every stoplight is, what isn't a good place to walk at night (everywhere). I've never been to Manhattan; therefore, I am so screwed. As I walk around, the sky dark, and a bag slung over my shoulder, I self-consciously tug on my Knicks shirt.

It took me two busses to finally get here, and on those busses I had to sit next to a girl breaking up with her boyfriend, which was _not_ a good time, and on the second I had to sit next to a little boy who stared at me the whole ride. About half way through I took to staring at him right back just as boldly until his mother shot me a look. _Me_ a look. Control your kid, lady.

So, now, after asking for directions from a very annoyed old man and a woman walking a cat - freaking _cat – _I stop at a café and flag over a waitress with blonde hair and a smile. Why is a café open right now anyway? The city is weird.

I vaguely recognize this as one of the areas that suffered Loki's rage, but still, I don't know the area well-enough to navigate.

She walks over to the fence separating the sidewalk from the outdoor eating area. "Can I help you with something?"

I flash her a smile, "Yea, actually, can you tell me where Stark Towers is?"

She gives me a strange look before glancing to the side and then looking back at me with more understanding. "Oh, it's right there." She points at a large building, "The lights should be turning on in a minute." And she was right, almost exactly a minute after she said that the words _Avengers Tower _illuminate the night. I thought I could see the tower from my apartment earlier, but I was wrong. This is much better, the building I mistook for it is no comparison.

"Oh, wow, I mean thanks. Not wow, thanks." I correct myself and she laughs before doing a once over of me.

"What are you going to do in Stark tower anyway?"

_Damn. _"Business." The words slip out of my mouth before I can stop them. I'm in a Knicks Jersey, jeans, and a crappy pair of old Jordan's, but yea, I guess I'm doing business.

"Business?" She repeats skeptically.

"Yea, ah, the stock market is…down and yea. Got to buy. I mean sell! Later." I practically run away. The stock market is a Wall Street thing isn't it? I don't know I've never been one for politics.

As I approach the Tower a wave of nervousness rushes through me like a tsunami. I've been thinking about how I was actually going to see Stark, but all plans seem like a bad idea. Basically, I'm going in hoping for the best, which in the past has always proved a bad idea. I touch the cut on my cheek.

It doesn't help that my ribs are hurting like a mother right now. Every step I take is like another throb of pain. I can only hope that they aren't broken. Hope is what I'm basing a lot of my wishes on.

I stop before the door of the Tower and peer into the lobby. A woman is behind the counter and people are bustling around. From what I've seen on T.V. the first about 65 floors are business etc. The top 10 is where the Avengers and Tony live. _The Avengers._ Then 11 of the floors are labs and such. That's just a calculation though.

I push my way through the spinning door, already looking out of place in the sea of Armani suits and Coach Bags. I walk up to the desk at the front, feeling as awkward as possible with people staring at me and my attire in obvious distaste.

"Excuse me?" I ask the living Barbie doll behind the counter. I don't mean that as a compliment either. She looks so fake I'm not entirely sure she's real.

She doesn't bother to look up, just lets out an obviously uninterested, "Yes?"

"I'm here to see Mr. Stark?" It sounds more like a question.

"Do you have an appointment?" She drones. Her voice makes me want to stab myself in the ears.

"No."

"You need an appointment to meet with Mr. Stark."

"Can I make an appointment for right now?"

She finally looks up, exasperated, before her face morphs into one of shock. She tries to contain her laughter as she looks at me, and I huff out an annoyed sigh. "Mr. Stark is not in right now. He's busy saving the world." She says it like she's his best friend.

"Well, when is he not saving the world, right?" I flash her a fake, but charming smile, "Ah, Tony, and me, yes we do go back. In fact, he was expecting me, but then he called and told me he had to go and… Avenge Earth…"

She doesn't look amused, or convinced, "Listen, kid. Beat it. No autographs today."

"Fine." I say raising my hands and backing away from the desk, "But you'll be hearing from my lawyer." I call to her making everyone stop and look at me as I walk backwards, successfully bumping into someone.

"Sorry, ma-," I prepare to say as I turn only to come face to face with Tony Stark. Well I'm an inch taller, so not really face to face. Saving the world my ass.

"Sorry, kid." He says patting my shoulder once and walking past, adjusting his suit, slightly, and all I can do is stare. A very pregnant Pepper Potts walks next to him, flashing me an apologetic smile before going on her way.

_Move, _a voice tells me as I see him walk into the elevator. _Now. _So I run, through the people like my life depends on it. I catch up the elevator right before it closes, and wedge my arm into the opening so that it dings open.

Tony sighs dramatically, "You're one of those people, huh. This is a private elevator kid. You need clearance and I'm sure you don't have it."

Pepper smacks his chest lightly, "Tony."

He sighs again, "Okay what do you want me to sign."

"We need to talk." I say walking into the elevator, and hitting the close door button. Tony tenses and takes a step in front of Pepper, blocking her from my view. I suddenly realize how crazy I must look.

"Oh, sorry. I'm not here to assassinate you." I say, dumping my bag on the floor, and taking a step backward.

Tony raises a skeptical eyebrow, "Well, you better get talking kid. Before I get security to throw you out."

I take a deep breath. Better now than never.

"My name is Luis Enriquez. And I'm your son."

**So guys how did you like it? How am I doing? I know it started kind of rough but I really wanted to get Luis' background before going into him and Tony, because it plays a big part at who they are. Oh and how did you guys like my OC's? Particularly Luis? I'm trying to make him a pretty likeable person. Review Please!**


	2. Welcome To The Family

**Here's the next chapter! So, I haven't seen Iron Man 3, or Thor: The Dark World, but I get the drift of Thor. So this is slightly AU. Erase the events from Iron Man 3 from your mind please. Anyway, enjoy!**

**I do not own The Avengers. I do not own any characters from Marvel. I only own My OC's.**

As my confession fills the elevator the small space becomes dead silent. Then Mr. Stark's laughter fills it and I can do nothing but stare at him in annoyance. Yep, should've been expecting that one. I roll my eyes, adjusting my duffle bag strap on my shoulder.

"Yea, funny," I mutter, "Can you control yourself for a second?"

"Sorry, kid, but after so many times of this happening you gotta laugh at it." Tony replies, running a hand through his hair.

"Tony," Pepper scolds.

"You have other sons?" I raise an eyebrow at him as the doors ding and slide open, revealing a beautiful living room, probably the size of my home.

"No, because they all turn out to be liars or their mothers all turn out to be liars." He points an accusing finger at me.

"I'm getting off, Tony." Pepper says walking out of the elevator and into the lounge area. "Have fun with your guest." She says smiling at Tony.

He lets out an irritated sigh and tugs on my bag so I reach next to him by the back of the elevator.

"If I tell you my mom's name will you even remember it?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

"Probably not," He says casually, "But just so you know you're taking up my precious time, because now we _need_ to take a paternity test so you don't sue me, or something equally scandalous."

"I can tell this happens a lot."

"You have no idea… What's your name?" Tony looks casual enough. He's acting like I'm not his son, and he probably really believes I'm not. To be honest, it's going to be really embarrassing if my mom was just lying to get me out of the house and off her back.

"Luis. I told you earlier."

"Yea, right, Luis. What happened to you anyway kid, trying to make me feel bad for you?" He asks, gesturing to my face.

I can't help but snort, "Yea. You caught on to my master plan." Sarcasm is practically dripping off my words.

"Like I said, it's happened before. I wouldn't be surprised." With those words the elevator dings once again, and this time the doors open to reveal a white lab room that smells strongly like a doctor's office. I crinkle my nose. I've always hated that smell.

"Come on, Luis. Let's get this over with. Banner! You in here?"

"Banner?" I can't believe my ears. Sure, I knew the rest of the Avengers lived here – with the exception of Thor – but I never expected to interact with them. At least, not so soon.

"Tony? Wasn't expecting you to be up here." A voice replies, and out steps a ruffled looking Bruce Banner. Dressed in a green (ha) button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a pair of tan slacks. Hair ruffled and glasses sagging, it looks like he's been in here awhile.

"Yea, well, surprise. Anyway, I got a kid here who says he's mine, and I want to get this over with as quickly as possible so that I could get back to Pep." He explains quickly, shrugging off his suit jacket and unbuttoning his shirt to show a white wife-beater underneath.

Bruce looks only mildly surprised as he glances my way, "Got yourself into quite the mess huh, Tony?" He busies himself with digging through a draw and pulling out two syringes.

"Don't these take, like, days?" I drop my bag and sit on the stool next to Tony.

Stark gives me a look like I'm slow, "I'm Tony Stark. I have the highest grade technology out there, don't-."

"Got it." I reply cooly, cutting him off.

He narrows his eyes, "Smartass. Might as well enjoy the little time you have left in the company of celebrities. You're going to be out of here soon, and then I'm going to have a nice drink. Maybe two. Five at the most."

"Trying to cut back?" I ask, hooking my feet on the rail of the stool. Bruce looks up at us as he pulls on a pair of latex gloves.

"Let's start with you." He nods toward me. I stay silent as he walks over and swabs the area at the crook of my elbow. "This will sting. Just a bit." He gives no warning as he presses the needle into my skin and pulling back the plunger, extracting a dark crimson liquid.

I don't even notice the sting. I watch, almost, transfixed as my blood is pulled from my body. Wow, that's a little morbid. Well, maybe a lot morbid. He extracts the needle and places it on a sterile cloth and placing a bandage over the area on my arm.

He repeats the same process on Tony with ease, and I can tell that he's been doing this awhile. Not much is known about Bruce Banner. He's the Hulk. He broke Harlem. Then he smashed during the Battle of New York. Something about Gamma radiation and science stuff. I don't know, but he's still my second favorite Avenger. Second only to Hawkeye. Sorry Dad.

Tony talks to Bruce while the latter fills viles with the blood and places both in a machine. "It'll take five, maybe, ten minutes for it to say." He tells us as he strips his hands off the gloves and flexes his fingers.

"Who's your mom?" Tony suddenly asks, but then quickly adds, "For the sake of asking, of course. Maybe I remember her."

"You don't even believe I'm your son."

"Let's say I'm humoring you."

"Thanks." I say as sarcastically as possible. "Valentina Enriquez. I'm fifteen."

He pauses for a minute, and then he gets a distant look in his eyes, like he just flew a thousand miles away. For a second, I'm filled with a relied and hope. Maybe, he does remember her. Maybe, this process just got a lot easier.

Then, the moment is over, and Tony breaks the silence, "Nope. Doesn't ring a bell. Sorry."

"I don't think he expected it too." Bruce comments as he idles in front if the machine.

Tony merely shrugs and I lean against the stainless steel table in front of me. This isn't going how I expected it to go. No, correction. It isn't going like how I hoped it to go. I had expected this, but I hoped that it would be, I don't know, I happier?

That he would remember my mom. Maybe talk about how much of an amazing person she was, and I can tell him that she still is. That he would embrace me and all the sudden things would be like the Brady Bunch. No, my life is too cruel for all of that.

I rest my head against the table as their idle chatting fills my ears. Something about machines or biology, hell, I don't know. I'm better at math than science. My ribs are killing me and I squeeze my eyes shut to handle the pain better. It feels like a rock is crushing me, and I just want it to stop.

A ringing noise fills the air, and I practically shoot up off the stool. I probably would have if it didn't feel like an elephant was dancing on my abdominal area.

"What's it say?" I ask, dread filling me. Oh God, Oh God, what if she was lying. What if she was mistaken? Where the fuck am I going to go? I'll probably die if I go home. A slow beeping fills the air as the machine prints out the results.

Tony is already buttoning up his shirt again, like he's ready to go already, but he's just waiting for the okay.

Bruce studies the sheet, before pushing up his glasses and re-reading.

"What's the conclusion, doc?" Tony picks up his jacket and shrugs it on.

"Positive." Bruce says in astonishment.

Tony freezes, "What does that mean? _Positive?" _

"It means he's your son, Tony." Bruce looks at him with a look of shock and disbelief. If Bruce looks shocked, than Tony looks positively terrified as he snatches the paper out of Bruce's hand a reads it over, his face paling.

"You've got to be shitting me." Tony drags a hand down his face before finally looking at me. He stares at me like he's just looked at me. All this time, he's treated me like just some kid. An annoyance. A problem that needed fixing. Now, he looks at me like I'm not even real. I don't know which is worse.

"If you're waiting for an apology," I say, only slightly bitterly, "You're not going to get one."

Tony remains silent, studying the sheet. My heart clenches and for a moment I think he really was waiting for an apology.

"Tony," Bruce breaks the tense silence, "What are you going to do?"

"Where you from, kid?" Tony asks suddenly.

I jump startled, and then wince, a hand automatically going up to cradle my aching ribs. "Spanish Harlem. Born and raised."

Tony nods, "Family?"

"You," I say dryly. His eye twitches if only slightly. A rage builds up in me, seemingly out of nowhere, and I'm angry all of the sudden. I keep pushing; because that's the only way I can react right now. I'm angry, and usually when that happens I tend to get sarcastic, nasty, and all I want to do is push people away.

"You, Pepper, now, Oh! And that kid you've got on the way. Let's see the Avengers are probably my uncles now. Does that make Loki my uncle to? Wow, always thought I had a crazy family. Oh-!"

"Stop! Do you know how serious this is?" Tony asks, clearly annoyed.

"No, why don't you tell me, _dad."_I practically spit.

Tony stares for a second before shaking his head and letting out a bitter chuckle. "I don't know why I didn't see it before. There's no doubt you're my kid."

"That's a bad thing, right?"

"No," he says quietly. I look up at him, surprised. "Answer me. Answer me seriously."

I sigh, "My mom, step-dad, two twin sisters."

"Are they mine, too?" Tony asks, rather dumbly.

I snort, "No. They're the spawn of my bastard of a step-dad."

Tony looks relieved, "Well, um, now what?"

I look at him in disbelief, "You're asking me?"

"Sorry, but it's not every day that I find out I have a kid. I got to talk to your mom."

"No!" I jump up immediately, and then end up crumpling to the floor, white hot pain, flashing through me.

Tony and Bruce rush over, almost automatically. "What's wrong?" Bruce asks with his best doctor voice.

"Ribs," I grit out. I lift up my shirt showing the crappy, but good enough bandage job.

"Duct tape?" Tony asks astonished. He looks at me like I'm insane. "You used Duct tape? What was the Scotch Tape all gone. Why don't you super glue the gauze to your body then cut it off?"

"Listen, not all of us can afford medical tape." I snap.

"It's like ten dollars."

"Like I said. Ay! Watch it, man!"

Bruce looks apologetic, "Sorry, but I have to get this off to treat you properly. What happened, anyway?"

"Steel toe boots." I say automatically.

"How did you get kicked with steel toe boots?" Tony asks with a raised eyebrow.

"I live in a bad neighborhood." It's not a lie.

An hour later Bruce had concluded that they're not broken, just bruised, thank God. He fixes them, not with duct tape, but with real medical supplies. He even gives me something to numb the pain. All while Tony grilled me on my life story. How old am I? (I'd already told him, but whatever.) What state was I born in? Etc.

It was only when he got to how my family life was that I faltered. "Good." Is all I say; it's all I can manage to say.

"That sounded convincing. Is that why I can't talk to your mom?" Tony leans back in his chair, feet propped up against another chair.

I run a hand through my hair as I begin to put on my shirt. "I can't go home, okay? They don't want me there." Not a lie. "My mom told me to get out, and find my father. This is my only option." Still not really a lie.

"What did you do that got you kicked out?" Tony raises an eyebrow.

_Talked back._ "They were just sick of me. If you call them they'll be all over your money. Suing you for kidnapping or some shit." Manny would be, at least. My mom wants nothing to do with Tony Stark.

"So you need to stay here?"

"If you'll let me, Stark. Even for a little while. Two weeks maybe." I slide gingerly off the bed in the sterile white room.

He takes a deep breath, "Yea. Let's try to keep it on the down low, though. The press will have a fucking field day if this got out. Along with every other baddie from here all the way to the nine realms."

"Wait – so you're going to let me stay?" I ask, surprised. I was sure he would just kick me out, pay me off to keep quiet, and send me off with a bottle of champagne and maybe a hooker. That just seemed like Tony Stark's way of life.

"I can't just kick you out." _Ha._ "Son of a Bitch Pep's going to be pissed." Tony drags a hand down his face. "I need to get drunk."

Bruce sends him a look before picking up his jacket, "Well, I'm going to bed. If I were you Tony I would tell the rest of the team that we have a guest." He gives us each a nod before disappearing.

Tony stands too. "Come on. I'll show you your room. It'll be on my level. I would advise you not to try to go on any other floors. Stark Towers is currently holding two master assassins', the world's first superhero, and a Hulk."

"Sounds like a party," I muse.

"You would think. Until you decide it would be funny to take Legolas' bow to see if you can use it and end up not being able to walk for a week." Tony scratches his head as he boards the elevator after me.

"Sounds like a personal problem." I reply.

As we make it to his personal floor I realize that it's even bigger than I thought. Modern furniture, granite bars, crystal chandeliers. Oh yea, Tony Stark was one for luxury.

We walk down a hallway and approach a white door made out of some sort of glass, plastic, maybe? It slides open and I can only manage to gape. The inside of the room is chic, modern. A giant, round, blue bed is in the middle of the room. White walls and a white floor. A dresser and desk litter the room, made of the same plastic glass as the sliding door. Not to mention, a whole other door that leads to my own bathroom.

"_Maldito."_ I mumble under my breath.

Tony stands, somewhat awkwardly in the door, "Well, night then. We'll talk more tomorrow. Right now I got to go get yelled at by my pregnant wife."

I can only manage to nod as he leaves the door sliding shut behind him. After moments of staring I let out a whoop of satisfaction before jumping on the bed. Landing on my back and staring up at the ceiling a grin on my face.

Yea, this is going to be an interesting two weeks.

**Well, how did you like it? Next chapter the chaos begins, and by that I mean Luis meets The Avengers and redecorates. Review please! Tell me if you guys like Luis, because I don't usually write OC's. **


	3. Babysitter JARVIS

**New chapter here! Enjoy!**

_**Sunday, Day One. **_

I turn over and groan as I feel the sunlight hit my face. I practically whip out my arm from under my side and lay it over my eyes, trying to stay asleep for as long as possible. I move my arm and crack open a single eye to glare at the window in question, only to become extremely confused. I shoot up in the bed, looking around wildly before remembering where I am and slumping back down in annoyance.

I forgot where I was for a second there. When I woke up I expected to be back in my small bed, in my dingy room. Waking up to the noise on the street and the smell of cigarettes is what I'm used to. Seeing my sisters' face and seeing my mom run around the house with her messy hair and uniform on before bustling out the door.

It's different to wake up in a giant bed in a nice room to no noise, only sunlight. I sigh and sit up again, stretching my arms over my head and popping my shoulders with one swift rolling motion.

I turn my body to get out of bed, but the sheets and covers tangle around my waist, making it hard to move my lower body. I almost growl. It was hard enough last night to untuck the damn sheets, and after several failed attempts I just gave up and climbed in the too tight bed.

I scoot myself to the edge and begin working on sidling out from the death trap they call a comforter.

"Anything I can assist you with, Mr. Enriquez?" A voice calls out, seemingly out of nowhere. I jolt forward so hard I successfully loosen the sheets and roll straight out of the bed and onto the wood floor with a groan. It's a good thing the blankets came with me or that would have really hurt my ribs.

"Who's there?" I question from under the pile of blankets on top of me.

"I'm sorry, Sir. I am JARVIS; Just A Rather Very Intelligent System. I serve as Mr. Stark's home computing system, also occasionally helping him with his more daring endeavors. Mr. Stark has told me to keep watch over you during your stay in the tower."

I untangle myself from the pile and stand, still looking around the room as if JARVIS was going to appear in the form of Alfred from Batman. Hey, they're both British so why not?

"So you're my babysitter?" I ask walking toward the door leading out of the bedroom.

"Use whatever title you prefer. I will also insist you around the tower so that you don't get lost."

"This is just a little creepy," I raise my gaze to the ceiling, still looking around.

"I'm sure you will adjust." JARVIS says.

"I'm sure." I reply as I wander through the hallway. "Where is everyone?" I'm still not sure what to expect from Tony, or Pepper for that matter. Any of them really. The only thing I can hope for is that the next two weeks aren't going to be terribly awkward.

"All residents in the Tower are currently residing on floor 55, which has come to be known as The Lounge area. There you can find most of the team on days off. However, I cannot let you on that floor. I have been forbidden by Mr. Stark."

I run an irritated hand through my hair. So that's how it's going to be. He's not going to keep me out of stuff that involves _me. _Maybe that's bull headed, and impulsive, but I deserve to know what he's talking about. I didn't come here to get attacked my sheets and babysat by a machine.

I don't really know what I came for. Shelter, maybe. Safety, definitely. But I really did want to meet my father. After these two weeks, I don't know if I'll see Tony Stark in person again, maybe he'll just send Child support while he plays house with Pepper. And a part of me is okay with that, because that's his life. I will never fit into the dynamic he has with her, and I don't want to come between a family.

Even though a part of me resents Tony Stark, a bigger part of me wants to gain his approval. That confuses me. Maybe because the only man I've ever had to look up to in my life was my _abuelo_ and after he died there was only Manny. And to be honest, I've never even respected Manny. In the end, after these two weeks, I might be lucky if I see Tony once a month. Because a man like that will never keep a kid like me.

I shrug my shoulders like I'm shrugging away my problems, because I'm still looking forward to making the most of these two weeks. I walk toward the elevator and push the button, and wait a minute, but nothing happens. _Right. I'm forbidden. _

"If I ask really nicely will you let me go?" I call out to the empty apartment.

"No, sir." JARVIS is as unwavering as my mother.

"Is there a database where I can access your system?" I drum my fingers against my side.

"Yes, if you prefer to use my systems manually. It is located in the hallway to the right of your bedroom door."

"Thanks, man." I reply as I make my way back to my room through the hallway. Sure enough, I find what looks like a tablet glued to the wall, but much more advanced. I crack my knuckles and begin fiddling with the screen. Opening up the data base after a moment of searching and sifting through files until I come across _Security. _

"There you are," I mutter to myself as I get to work. I've hacked into few things before. A guy in Manny's shop was a self proclaimed computer hacker. He wasn't great. He was self taught, and only really successfully hacked into a couple of ATM's, which he taught to me. To say the least, I have a few tricks up my sleeve. A few basic decryption codes and that's it.

When I did hack into an ATM my mom flipped and made me vow never to do it again even if we had no power and little food. I haven't really done anything like that since then, besides hacking into an Instagram account or two, but those people deserved it.

I was expecting it to be harder to crack to be honest, but I guess Stark hadn't gotten around to reinforcing the security in the tower since it had been rebuilt. He is a busy many after all. I override the system in less than fifteen minutes.

"Sir, I commend you, even if your work is messy and unrefined."

I grin, "Thanks – wait. Did you just call me messy and unrefined? You're pretty stuck up for a robot."

"I resent that," He replies.

This time when I try the elevator it actually opens, and I let out a satisfied whoop of laughter. My skills haven't failed me yet. I enter the elevator and push the 55 button. "I'm expecting that you've already warned Tony," I drawl.

"Mr. Stark has informed me not to disturb him until he requests me for the period that he is meeting with The Avengers, or unless there is a dire emergency."

The elevator rises as I nod in what could be understanding, "You're pretty cool for a robot."

"Thank you, sir. I wish I could say the same about you." Jarvis says.

"Hey!" I call out, only slightly offended. I'm actually more amused than anything else. The doors decide to ding open after my small outburst and before JARVIS can reply. The doors slide open to reveal _The Avengers _in a heated conversation. Well, all except Thor.

For a moment, I'm to star struck to actually speak. I can only manage to gape at them all in wonder. Tony is arguing with Steve Rogers as a grinning Hawkeye watches the scene in amusement. Black Widow is talking to Pepper with a cool, indifferent look. Dr. Banner is once again watching with a quite, but all seeing gaze, arms crossed and biting at his thumbnail. It's only when the elevator door begins to close again do I regain my senses and dart out just in time, almost tripping on my own feet.

This very small, almost insignificant noise, out of all things, seems to snatch their attention and six heads swivel to face me. I right myself almost instantly and offer a small wave in greeting.

"How did you get in here?" Tony asks eyes wide. "JARVIS? Didn't I tell you not to let him leave the floor?"

"He overrode my system, Sir. There was nothing I could do."

Tony squeezes the bridge of his nose, "Please remind me to update the security systems."

Steve is the first to rise; smiling a smile that I'm not sure is genuine or forced. "Hi, I'm Steve Rogers. I work with your father." He approaches me with his hand held out in front of him.

I resist the urge to laugh at the words "_your father"_. The words still don't sound real. I wearily grasp his hand and give it a firm shake. "Luis," I say, introducing myself.

Pepper is the next to approach, slowly, like she's approaching a wild animal. I drop my gaze to the ground.

"I'm Pepper," she gives me a small smile; "I guess this is a little strange for both of us."

"Tell me about it," I reply, returning her smile with an even smaller one of my own. This seems to satisfy her enough as she sticks her own hand out and I shake her hand. I don't bother telling them that I already know their names.

"I'm Clint," Hawkeye calls from his perch on the light green, almost metallic couch. He jerks a thumb to the woman next to him, "This is Natasha."

I nod, "I'm Luis."

"So we hear. You've cause quite the commotion around here," Natasha says her eyes intent and sharp.

"How did you hack my security system any way? Why is no one else more concerned about this?" Tony asks sounding unsettled.

I shrug my shoulders casually, "Your system, no offense, is shitty. I suck at hacking. That's like the first system I've got into that isn't an ATM."

"ATM?" Steven asks, sounding confused.

Tony groans, "I don't have time to explain this to you right now, Stars and Stripes. I'm still wondering why a fifteen year old broke into an ATM."

"I was thirteen when that happened," I defend. "I can also hot wire a car." I add just for the hell of it.

"I like this kid." Clint says, sounding even more amused than before.

"Thanks, I try," I shoot him a grin.

"Should I be worried that I'm living with a felon?" Tony raises an eyebrow at me.

"You live with a man who grows three times his size and turns green, and you're worried about me?" I glance at Bruce, "No offense, Banner."

"None taken." He replies as if he gets it all the time. He probably does.

Pepper looks at me with an apologetic expression, "We were all just talking about you." She explains.

"I kind of assumed."

"We all think it's best if you aren't seen in public. It'll start a lot of drama and press, that we don't need right now." Tony sits next to Steve on the couch.

Steve glares at the other man, "They all think it's best. Tony, I still don't understand this. He's you're son why would you be ashamed?"

"I'm not ashamed." Tony snaps, "But if this gets out to people like, let's say, Loki? The kid will be in all kinds of trouble. God knows it's not safe to be related to me."

"I'm still here," I speak up, walking next to the couch. "And who cares? Are you going to let your new kid never go out when it's born?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Let me just figure out how to break this to the press." Pepper puts in, trying to smooth things over.

"So what? I'm supposed to stay here all day?" I ask. I don't really have an issue with it, this place is insanely huge and full of stuff I'm itching to get my hands on.

"For today at least," Pepper says just as her phone begins to ring. She practically jumps up and dashes out of the room to take the call.

"Business as usual," Clint mutters, tapping his fingers against the arm of the couch.

"Anyway," Tony stands up, "Everyone clear out. I need to have a chat with the kid."

"Luis. Why do you have to keep calling me the kid?" I huff, collapsing onto the couch Steve just evacuated.

"We'll be in the training room if you need us." Natasha calls back as her, Steve, and Clint disappear into the elevator. Bruce exits down a hallway probably to some sort of lab if I had to guess.

The room is quiet when everyone leaves, leaving only me and Tony alone. I clear my throat and run a leg down my pants, "You wanted to speak with me?" I use the best mock professional voice I can.

"Right," He sounds unsure, and I consider laughing because I've never seen Tony Stark sound nervous before. "Listen, I know that this is a really crappy way to find out who your father is-."

"To be completely honest," I interrupt, "I don't think there really is a good way to find out who your dad is."

"True," he agrees with a slight nod. He crosses over to a large piano in the corner and leans against it, crossing his arms. "I was sure that when I had a kid that I would be there. I wouldn't always be gone like how my dad was or me."

I snort. _Oh Irony._

He sends me a look before continuing, "And I know that I've already royally fucked that one up, so I'm going to try."

"What does that mean? Try to be a father?"

"Yea, be there while I can, you know? I understand you're probably pissed at me already, but if for two weeks I can try to be your dad, then I'm going to try." His voice is low, but it seems to fill the whole room, leaving no corner deaf to his words.

"What happens after the two weeks?" I ask, unlike him, my voice sounds like a shout, too loud, even in the big room. "That's it? Pay my mom to keep quiet about it all? And then I never get to see you again."

"If that's what you want?" He seems unsure; it comes out as more of a question.

"I don't know," I answer truthfully. I guess a lot depends on these two weeks. I don't know how I'm going to deal with Manny once I'm shipped off again, but I also don't know how to deal with Tony. With Manny I know that when he's with his buddies he's loud and obnoxious, but he doesn't hit. Maybe he makes a couple of crude jokes, or messes with me a bit, but never hits. I guess he's got an image to keep up.

When he's drunk and alone with only us he's violent. Any little thing will set him off. Marta spills milk on the counter? She's got bruise marks on her arm from him grabbing it, and I have a black eye. Because no matter what anyone did, I always was the punching bag, but if it's my burden to carry, I'll carry it gladly. Well, as close to gladly as I can get. It's better than him hitting anyone else any more than he needs to.

Tony gives only a stiff nod, seeming to accept this answer. I think he gets it. Gets that I have no clue in hell what I'm doing, because I don't think he has any clue what he's doing either. Silence descends once again; I clasp my hands in front of me and lean forward slightly.

I hear footsteps from behind me and I sense him behind me. An awkward and tentative hand reaches out to touch my shoulder, patting it so stiffly that a laugh escapes my throat at how ridiculous it all is. Sometime, I think my life is a joke. I'm good with that; at least I'll die laughing.

"Okay," I clap my hands in front of me and stand, plastering a grin onto my face, "What now?"

Tony looks only slightly taken back, but recovers quickly, "I don't know, kid. What do you like? Keep in mind that we can't leave the tower."

I grin, a more genuine grin, "I think I have an idea."

**Chapters finally up. Sorry this one took longer than I thought it would. Next chapter we see Luis' idea, and he's going to bond a bit with one of Earth's mightiest heroes. Review Please!**


	4. Spray Paint, Zombies, Spaghetti, Oh my!

**New Chapter! Enjoy!**

**I do not own The Avengers, Marvel, or the Left4Dead franchise. **

**Sunday, Day One**

"This is vandalism," Tony states as he looks at the can of spray paint in his hand.

"No it's not. This room is technically mine, so I can do whatever the hell I want with it. Besides, white walls are _boring,_" I respond as I shake my own can. After convincing Stark that a good way of bonding was doing what _I _want to do we covered all the furniture in my room with that clear tarp like stuff they use when they paint.

Art has always been one of my favorite things; sure, I don't know any famous painters besides the basics like Picasso, Van Gough, and Frida Kahlo, but I love making something out of nothing. I've never been able to afford art supplies besides paper, pencils, and the occasional couple of spray paint cans. I used to tag all the time in my neighborhood, not gang signs, but murals, like Banksy.

I used to buy three can when I had some extra cash, then that night I'd sneak out and try to find a blank wall, which is much harder than it sounds in my neighborhood. A lot of times the picture is washed off by business owners who obviously can't appreciate art, but I still do it when I can, however, lately I haven't been getting out much. And when I did I ended up with Tony Stark.

I'm pretty sure my mom knows about it. Every time we pass one of my works she looks at me with this knowing, all-seeing look. She doesn't say anything. I think she knows it's the only way I can express myself. Once, when I was twelve this business owner let me paint a mural on the side of his restaurant, the one my mom waitresses in. I don't know for sure, but I think she may have talked him into it. Never the less, I'm still grateful.

Anyway, I know I can probably do my own thing without Tony watching, but if he wants to bond, then we can bond. Doesn't bother me. It's not like I want to it's just whatever…Ok, maybe I do kinda want to, but mostly just to show off. Mostly.

"Aren't spray paint fumes strong? Pregnant woman in the tower cannot smell strong fumes." Tony points out as he paces back and forth.

I roll my eyes, "I had JARVIS find me these. It's the same kind you use to paint the suit. Dries quickly and no fumes."

"…How do you know that? JARVIS! Are you giving away trade secrets?" Tony stops his painting to yell up at the ceiling.

"My apologies, sir. I will try to be more secretive." JARVIS drones as sarcastically as a robot can be.

"So," I begin, "I'll do this wall, and you do that wall." I say nodding to the wall opposite of mine.

"What do you want me to do? Kid, I've never even painted a day in my life."

I shrug, "Go with it. Do whatever you want." I shake my can once more before popping the lid off and getting to work. I know exactly what I'm going to be doing. After a few minutes, I hear another can spraying, and I know Tony had also begun. The silence is comfortable, surprisingly; I didn't really expect it to be.

However, no silence can last forever, "So," Tony begins casually, "How's your mom doing?"

"You finally remember who she is, man-whore?"

"Hey! I'm reformed! A one woman kind of guy now… But no I still can't."

I snort, "She's…" I trail off; I don't really know how she is. Not good, probably. She lives in a dingy ass apartment with an abusive ape of a husband who has a drinking problem and yells more than he works. She works from 11:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m. at _La Comida Mejor _and then she works from 7:00 p.m. to 12:00 a.m. at_ Café de Rosa_. When she's home she's sleeping, cleaning, getting yelled at or cooking. The only times I see her smile is when she's with me or the twins.

But none of this I can say, because I haven't told Stark about my shitty home life, and I never plan too. I don't need his pity. I don't need anyone's pity. I settle on, "She's happy. A good life she has." What. The. Fuck. _A good life she has? _Am I freakin Yoda?! I resist the urge to slam my head against the wet paint. I can only hope the force is with me and that I actually sounded convincing.

Tony laughs, "What are you? Yoda?" I grit my teeth. "What about the step-dad?"

I stop spraying for a minute. I put the cap on my can and grab the green one. "He's as good as a step-dad gets, I guess." _That's the biggest lie I could've ever said in my life,_ I think to myself as I busy myself with spraying again.

His spraying stops for a moment, "What about you? Are you happy?"

"I don't know," I say honestly, "I guess I'll tell you at the end of these two weeks."

He doesn't reply, just keeps spraying. This time it stays silent.

After what seems like an hour later I hear the clatter of a can hitting in the floor and a loud clap. "Done!" Tony announces. I turn to look at his wall and freeze as soon as I lay eyes on it.

Then I burst into laughter. He's painted the arc reactor thing in his chest. But all it looks like is a big, uneven, blue circle, with other shades of blue inside. It doesn't even take up the whole wall.

Tony looks indignant, "Hey, this is my first try all right? If you expected a masterpiece you should've asked, Cap sickle."

"Who?" I ask in between laughs. I clutch at my stomach as I try to regain control of my body, still chuckling.

"Steve? Captain America." He turns to look at me as if I'm an idiot, before he also freezes. "That's not fair!" He exclaims, "How was I supposed to know you were the fucking Picasso of tagging?" He exclaims, gesturing at my wall. I grin at him and then at the work in front of me.

It's big, and colorful, and loud as all hell, but it's also really good. One of my best I think. Iron Man stands in the middle, suit alight and ready to attack. Next to him his is Captain America, running into whatever battle lies ahead. On the other side of Iron Man is Bruce Banner hulked out letting out a monster yell. It's not done yet, it still needs the rest of Earth's Mightiest Heroes. (Here's the link if you want to know what I believe this looks like: )

I shrug, "Hey, don't look at me like that. I'm just an amateur. Although, I am mad that I have to stare at that shitty ass circle every day."

"I warned you," He points an accusing finger at me as he continues to look at the wall. His expression softens slightly as he drops his hand, "But it's good, Luis. Nice job." A feeling wells up inside me, one I've never felt with Manny, only with my mom. That feeling when a parent compliments you on something. Only it's not at full capacity, maybe its cause right now Tony is just like a sperm donor and someone who keeps a roof over my head.

"Thanks," I reply with a small nod. I drop the can to the ground and it falls and rolls away with a _clink_. "I think that's enough art for today. I have to call my mom." I haven't called her at all, except a quick text last night.

"Right, I'm going to go down to my workshop if you need anything find me or ask JARVIS."

"Okay." He leaves with another nod in my direction. I stand there for a moment, rocking back and forth on the balls of my feet. Then, I reach for my phone in my pocket and pull it out before falling, and collapsing to the floor, staring up at the white ceiling. I dial my mother's number and after two rings she picks up.

"Hey," I greet casually. She must be in the alley smoking, like she usually does on her break.

"_Hi!_ ¿Cómo estás?" She sounds happy to hear from me, and for a second I wonder I she thought they made me sleep outside, even though I told her I was fine.

"_Soy bueno. _I'm good. Everyone's been pretty nice here."

"_Good. What have you been doing? Enjoying that big tower? _

"Nah, they got me on house arrest while they figure out how to handle the press."

"_House arrest? What does that mean?" _She sounds confused. Sometimes, very rarely, her English is not up to par. When that happens she gets so embarrassed and angry about it I feel bad for her.

"Like, I can't leave the tower for a day or two," I explain.

"_Ah,"_ She replies, and I can practically hear her nod.

"How's home…? Manny?" I don't need to say anymore. _Is Manny still going to kill me if I come back?_

For a moment the line is dead, and all I hear is car horns and loud music. _"Manny hasn't come home yet." _

"Oh," I say, quietly, "Why not?"

"… _I don't know, Luis. I just hope he isn't passed out dead drunk somewhere."_

This is what pisses me off about my mom. Manny can beat the living shit out of me and she's still concerned about him. I hope he's dead. I've never wished he was dead more in my life. I can't come home or he'll kill me and she's worried about him. Talk about sorting out your priorities.

I scoff in disgust, "Yea, well, he could be dead in a gutter for all I care."

"_Luis,"_ I hear the warning tone in her voice.

"No, know what? I gotta go. Love you." I hang up, without hearing her reply. I drop my phone carelessly, shaking my head as I stand. _This is bullshit,_ I think to myself. Who gives a damn if that waste of space is dead or not? He's probably just at one of his buddies' house, freeloading off of them for a while. My mom should be grateful if anything.

I walk out, ready to go wander the tower like I've been meaning to do since this morning. I walk into the elevator and head back to the lounge area where I found Tony and the Crew earlier. I lean against the railing of the private elevator sulking like the true teenager I am. As the door dings open I'm surprised when I hear the synthesized rapid fire noise that can only come from video games. I walk out of the elevator to see Clint Barton on the giant couch hunched over a controller. Across from him lays Natasha, a book in her hand that's title is in Russian or, what I think must be Russian.

She seems mostly unaffected by the noise as I approach I see Clint take down a hoard of zombies with a machine gun. He's playing Left4Dead 2, I only know because my friend Jon has the same game, and when I went over we used to play for hours.

He barely glances at me over his shoulder, "Hey kid." Natasha looks up from her book, giving me a nod before returning to her reading.

"Hey," I say, falling down at the other end of the couch Clint is sitting at. I watch him play, wondering how the hell I ever got lucky enough to sit in a room with the worlds deadliest spies, and act so casual about it.

"Smoker," I point out, as I watch the mutated zombie run along the roof.

"What?" Clint asks, looking wildly around the screen, "Where?" His health is already at 42%, so I can see his worry.

"Right corner- Oh! Sucks for you man," I grin as the smokers tongue shoots out and wraps around Clint's character. He begins to furiously pound buttons, muttering curses as his health continues to drain. The rest of his companions are currently battling a hoard of zombies, and after another second Clint dies.

"Son of a Bitch! Goddamn Nick can't shoot a zombie if they stood still!" He exclaims, dropping the controller onto the couch.

"Don't be a sore loser, Clint." Natasha says vaguely as she flips the page in her book.

"Yea, and don't diss Nick. He's my guy," I chime in.

"Oh yea?" Clint tosses me the second controller, "Then you play as him, maybe you can cover me better than the computer can."

I grin, catching the controller easily, "Well, if you insist." I say shrugging and starting up the controller.

* * *

"You just blew me up!" I yell, outraged. "You can't blow me up. I'm your teammate." Five games later and we were turning on each other. Maybe it had something to do with me accidently shooting him, but that did _not_ warrant blowing me up.

"Hey, you say friendly fire. I say friendly explosives." Clint replies as he easily takes out several more zombies with a machete.

I slump against the couch, waiting for my character to be revived. This is actually really fun. Just hanging out, playing videogames with Hawkeye. Joking and laughing and occasionally yelling. Ok, well, around game two Natasha left because we were too loud, but still.

"I hope you get eaten," I announce, gesturing at the screen.

"Just because you said that I think next time a you get attacked I'm going to let _you_ get eaten." Clint says as he mashes the buttons. He glances at me out of the corner of his eye, eyeing the scabbed cut on my face. I accidently ripped the bandage off in my sleep because it was too itchy. Oops.

"What happened to you?" He asks as one of the other computer automated characters gets smashed by a giant zombie called a Charger.

I shrug, "Gangbangers beat me up." I use the lie I've used on many occasions.

"Sure," He says casually. I can't tell if he believes me or not. His face is as neutral as ever, much different from the guy I just seen raging at the television five minutes ago. My stomach twists and I run a nervous hand through my hair. Does he know? No, he can't know.

"My dad was a mean drunk, too."

_He knows. _

"I don't know what you're talking about." I reply, indignant, sitting straighter.

He pauses the game and looks at me, "When I used to get hit I used to tell people I fell, or that my brother and I's play fighting got to rough to explain bruises. When I got beat, I used to say some thugs did it."

He sees everything, so he would have been able to tell if I was lying. Trained assassin, hello. I don't see everything, so I would have never guessed anyone would have guessed. If that makes any sense.

I slump my shoulders and hang my head, looking at the ground, "How'd you know?"

"By the way you covered it up so quickly. Plus, it's happened to me, so I can tell when it's happening to someone else…usually. Step-dad?"

"Yea," I nod once, clasping my hands together and looking over at him.

"Does Tony know?" He asks, face is softer, but not pitying. Thank God it's not pitying.

"No, and I would like it if you didn't tell anyone, okay?" I can't walk around being the poor abused kid from the ghetto. _I won't be that kid. _

"Okay," Clint responds, picking up the controller and going back to playing. Relief fills me. Many people may say that it's inconsiderate to just blow it off like that, but I'm grateful. I don't want someone to baby me because I'm so damaged. I want someone to show concern, and then go back to treating me like a person and not a vase.

"Thanks," I reply as my character finally joins the game once again. I pick up my controller and join Clint's as they run off into a helicopter, completing the level.

"Don't worry about it. But if you need to talk, then you know where to find me." Clint replies, setting down his controller and turning to face me.

"I actually don't. Where's your room?"

"It's more like an apartment, and it's just one above yours, first hallway to the right." He informs me, gesturing with his hand slightly.

"Okay," I reply, thankful. At least I know I have someone I could talk to whenever I want about home, not that I'd probably want to anyway.

Clint turns off the console and stands, and I stand too. "We're not playing another round?" I ask, confused. We were on a roll.

"Nah, today's Sunday, and that means Steve's cooking Sunday dinner. He's gonna kill me if I'm late again." He stretches and walks to the elevator. I long behind, looking for something else to do to bind my time while everyone's gone. Maybe more videogames.

"Come on, Luis. I don't have all day." He says holding the elevator door open and gesturing for me to come with.

"Wha- Oh! Yea, pfft, yea, I'm coming." I say, jogging to join him, playing it off. We go to the floor above Tony's. A modern hallway is the first thing that greets me as I step off the elevator. It looks like one of those fancy hotel hallways I always see in movies and shit.

"My door," Clint knocks on the one closest to us on the right. We walk down the hall and the smell of pasta sauce and garlic bread fills the hallway, making my mouth water slightly. That's when I notice I haven't eaten anything all day. I wasn't really hungry. Must be the meds, because now I feel like I can eat the whole door.

Clint knocks once before opening the door walking in like it's his own home. I follow him, lingering behind him in the doorway. I watch what must be the weirdest thing I've ever seen in my life. An apartment is before me, full of good, sturdy furniture and a kitchen area, separated from the dining room and living room by a counter.

In the kitchen Steve is standing over a pot, stirring while Tony tries to drink from a bottle of wine on the other side. It must be cooking wine because Steve keeps batting at him to get away and telling him to get out of his kitchen. Pepper seems to be in the middle of conversation with Natasha at the table. Bruce is speaking with a short woman with shoulder length brown hair, who seems to be talking enthusiastically about something about stars.

Clint enters the kitchen, successfully swiping the bottle from Steve and taking a drink out of it before making a gagging noise. "That is not wine, that is poison." He declares, practically shoving the wine back into Steve's hand.

"Well, that I don't want that anymore." Tony makes a disgusted face and shudders before exiting the kitchen, and seeing me.

"Hey, kid, glad you could join us. Shut the door would you? We're about to eat." He jerks his head over to the large table. Steve comes out of the kitchen with a big bowl of spaghetti noodles and an even bigger bowl of sauce. A salad and garlic bread already graces the table and as I approach everyone takes their seats, Tony at the head, and Steve at the other end. Pepper sits on Tony's right, and I take my seat at the only other place which is on his right.

Clint sits on my other side, and soon everyone begins to serve themselves, scooping heaps of pasta onto their plates and talking, some loudly, like Tony, and some quietly like Natasha. "So," Tony begins, "As it turns out I suck at art."

I pause, fork halfway to my mouth, "It's true, he's really bad. Now I have to sleep with his monstrosity staring at me every night."

Laughs and chuckles echo through the room, and I'm struck by the domesticity of it all. I've never had this before, never had sit down meals. My sisters would love this. Hell, so would my mom. Guilt eats at me. I shouldn't have hung up on her like that. I'll call her tomorrow and apologize, right now; I'm kinda concerned with how much I'm enjoying not only the food, but the company.

Clint tells a story about a mission in Hong Kong that is supposed to be classified, but what Fury doesn't' know doesn't hurt him apparently. Natasha smiles, and sometimes adds things, like how she had to crawl through sewers in an evening gown and heels while Clint laughed into her ear through her earpiece.

Everything is so… Normal. And I find myself enjoying it maybe a little too much.

**Done! Sorry, this was kinda a longer wait, but also a longer chapter. Yay! Also, go team getting to know everyone! Next chapter might have some action. Oh, and could you spot Jane Foster in there? She will be a frequent character, and Darcy Lewis might also make an appearance. Anyway, next chapter up soon! Review Please!**


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